


A Distant and Impossible Dream

by isometricradiance



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: F/M, Happy Ending, Revelations, Shurrin - Freeform, a lil ficlet thingy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-25 23:43:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9852284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isometricradiance/pseuds/isometricradiance
Summary: Even when he's painfully close, Shura's dream seems distant and impossible. Meeting Corrin makes it seem near.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi. I'll try not to do to many of these author notes, but I figured I'd give a quick spiel. This is my first multichapter fic on this site. It's a smaller undertaking than my previous ones on other sites. It's also my first Shurrin fic...in fact, it's my first time really looking in-depth at Corrin as a character. Bear with me as I work through all this new stuff (I also haven't posted on here at all in like a year RIP).
> 
> I'll update as my schedule allows! And thank you for putting up with an exposition chapter!
> 
> Sincerely,
> 
> Mars

The Sevenfold Sanctuary proved a massive challenge for a lone adventurer. Shura, coated in sweat and swathed in tattered clothes, stood panting in the middle of a room he had barely managed to clear. With a ragged sigh, he jabbed his staff into the floor and leaned heavily against it. _My dream. It’s so close, but how can I continue like this?_ Shura thought, cursing the tremor in his arms.

Enemy after enemy had descended upon him. Sanctuary guards had nearly piled on him, and it was only with his dexterity and accuracy in shooting his bow that had allowed him to get this far. But how much further could he go, bleeding and battered as he was? The soulless sanctuary guards felt no pain. It took arrow after arrow to bring one down, only for it to dissolve through the floor and disappear like sand through a sieve. Sure, he was still alive after facing these, but how much further did he have to go? And how much more could he take before succumbing to the masses of guards?

The power to rebuild Kohga was so close, so very close, but he had to prop himself up with his staff to stand. It seemed as though the gods were laughing in his face once more.

From the floor below, Shura heard a scuffle. Muffled yells and bangs that shook the floor could be heard. Shura’s eyes narrowed in annoyance. Now what? He eased himself away from his staff and prepared his bow. What new torture could the Sevenfold Sanctuary throw at him in his now seemingly futile quest?

He heard the warp panel activate, and he knocked an arrow. If he was about to go down, he was about to go down fighting.

The panel lit up, and a humanoid shape began to appear. Shura readied himself, straightening the arm holding the bow and drawing back the bowstring with the other. The motion hurt; his body was wracked with pain from his earlier ordeal. The shape solidified, and a rather puzzling individual hopped off the pad. It was a woman, bearing a long sword and a tattered blue cape. A cloud of pale, silvery hair pooled over a strong body armored in chrome and black; it also concealed her face from him. Her feet were puzzlingly bare. She doesn’t look like a sanctuary guard, he thought, slowly lowering his arm.

The movement, however, drew her attention to him. Rather aggressively, she pointed the sword in his direction, bracing herself for a fight. “Are you another sanctuary guard?” she demanded, her voice cutting across the distance effortlessly.

Shura scoffed; at this point, he dropped his bow arm entirely and shoved the arrow back in its quiver. “Excuse me?”

“Oh.” She lowered her sword and took a step toward him. He could see her face better now. She looked young, with wide eyes and a certain roundness to her cheeks. “I’m sorry. You really don’t look like one of those sanctuary guards.”

“Don’t compare me to one of those freaks,” Shura spat. Unable to help the exhausted quaking of his legs, he propped himself against his staff again.

“Are you a thief?” she asked. She prowled closer, cautiously, her sword still gripped tightly. Her movements were a little feral, perhaps not entirely human. “You’re not here to steal from the sanctuary, are you? I don’t know that there are gold and treasures here, as in the usual sense.”

He wasn’t sure if his lack of inhibitions from exhaustion, but Shura, normally not one for small talk, laughed bitterly and propped himself against his staff a little more sturdily before explaining, “As if I care about treasure. I’m here for the Sage’s strength. I need to gain as much strength and power as he can give me.” His tone and expression darkening with the thought of his loss, he slowly continued, “I need it to defeat that self-proclaimed daimyo of Mokushu. That scum destroyed him. I have to defeat him and rebuild…” he trailed off when she froze in her slow prowl toward him.

Her expression, rather serious, softened to one of momentary puzzlement. “Um. Mokushujin daimyo....do you mean…?”

His guard back up, Shura took a long step back from her, brow furrowed. He reached for an arrow in his quiver. “You aren’t Kotaro’s friend, are you?”

 “I’m not his friend, but I know him,” she responded uneasily. She eyed his movements before adding, “My friends and I actually defeated him on the way here. He’s not the daimyo of anything anymore.”

His eyes widened. His staff clattered to the floor, and he took a few steps toward her. The daimyo was dead?! After all these years and planning on Shura’s part, and some young girl with a sword and some “friends” had taken down his sworn enemy?

 _Well, that’s only part of the dream. You also want to rebuild Kohga. Now it’s just a bit less work on your front, you know,_ he reminded himself. With a sigh, he scratched at his neck and grinned, a bit awkwardly. “Well, I suppose I owe you my thanks. You got my revenge for me. My name is Shura. I’m a ninja from Kohga, a land devastated by Mokushu. Who are you?” _Who is this woman who defeated my enemy?_

She finally eased back, her sword dangling more loosely from her fingertips. Standing straight, she propped her free hand on her waist and smiled back. At this smaller distance, he noticed that her eyes were deep red. Her gaze was even but intense. “I’m Corrin,” she said, the faintest of smiles touching her features.

 _Corrin._ He knew that name. His gaze drifted back down to her strange, bronze-tinted sword and to her tattered appearance. _Wait a minute._ She wasn’t that princess stirring up trouble all over Nohr and Hoshido, was she? “Wait—Corrin?” He paused, aware that he was about to make a massive fool out of myself if he was wrong. “I can’t believe I’m gonna ask this...are you a princess? Were you kidnapped from Hoshido as a child?”

 “How do you know that? Have we met before?” she asked, cocking her head slightly.

He chuckled. “Never underestimate a ninja’s intelligence network. Rumors fly about you. I heard you ran off with a legendary sword and you’re fighting Nohr and Hoshido.” _No wonder she took down that daimyo so easily,_ he thought.

Corrin laughed awkwardly. She shifted her weight, eyes darting about the room, before she responded, “Well, I wouldn't say that I ran off with it...but that’s a long story. You've got the meat of things, I guess.” Hastily, she added, “Although I wouldn't say we're fighting both kingdoms! We just aren't allied to either. We're working to defeat a greater threat to our world. It's why we've come here. We want to meet the Sage and ask him how we can accomplish our mission.”

Shura pondered her words for a long time, watching her as she watched him. She was open, her face seemingly soft and trusting...yet she had defeated Kotaro and silenced the tyranny of Mokushu. She had made it so far up in the sanctuary, far less battered than him. If she was out for a just cause, she with her bare, bloodied feet and stolen sword, then maybe it would benefit him to join her. “Hmm. All right. I think I understand your story. I think I’ll help you,” he said.

Her eyes widened, surprised. “Really?! Thank you!” she exclaimed, her features radiating a youthful joy.

Corrin’s excitement caught him off-guard. He was a mere adventurer, scrappy and wielding a bow; why would she feel any excitement toward him? Feeling oddly flattered, Shura averted his gaze. In spite of himself, he huffed a good-natured sigh. “Yeah. You defeated that Mokushujin scum, after all. If I go with you, you may accomplish my other goals for me, too! And a bigger army is better for you, right?”

She gave a nod, still smiling. “Yes, of course. We’d be glad to have you. Thank you, Shura! One of my sisters is in the room behind me; she can heal you…” she trailed off, her eyes narrowing. “Sanctuary guards.”

Shura glanced behind him reluctantly; sure enough, the walls were oozing. More of the sanctuary guards were appearing, for they had lingered too long in this room. Corrin’s gaze shifted to him. “Bear with me a bit here. Then we’ll get you healed up.”

“Right.” He cleared his throat awkwardly as he knocked another arrow. “Uh. I pledge my services to you.” She glanced back at him as more words, surprising and respectful, tumbled from his lips. “Let’s help each other out, Lady Corrin.”

She gave him an encouraging smile. “That’s what this army is based on. Helping each other. Let’s take down these illusions, why don’t we?”

A guard bled through the wall, and Corrin charged it, sword drawn to take on the enemy at hand. The past few minutes spun through his head, making the flash of her pale hair and the bloodied soles of her feet seem surreal, but he readied himself to shoot an arrow. He’d think later. For now, the woman who had killed the daimyo needed his aim to be steady and his arrows to fly true.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to say I had no idea Shura was this popular. I didn't expect to get any attention for this fic, truthfully. I'm really glad other people love him; I'm really happy to write for this character!
> 
> Anyway, enough babbling. Here's the update!

 

To Shura, Corrin’s world seemed prismatic and far-fetched, part of a reality that he hadn’t been privy to in all of his years as a thief and a vagabond. She and her army resided in a castle in a place called a “Deeprealm.” As far as he could tell, a Deeprealm was little more than a separate bubble of space from the world he knew, but that was hardly the weirdest part of joining Lady Corrin’s army.

The strangest feeling was that it was the first time in memory that he could remember having access to three square meals a day, safe areas to train, and access to a place to sleep for the foreseeable future. Clean and comfortable, the barracks provided a great deal of comfort he hadn’t experienced since his youth, back before Kohga had been decimated and lorded over by a fascist like Kotaro.

Yet, it was no different than before. Though he was safe and with people who ultimately were working toward the dubious goal of “defeating a greater threat,” it did not change Shura’s past. It did not change the years slitting purses and throats, all in order to restore his home. He did not excuse his behaviors. They had been bloody means to an important end; however, he knew that it didn’t endear him to others. Shura did not know how many in her army knew, but he knew that the other ninjas knew. When Saizo, the scarred redhaired ninja, first saw him, his good eye had briefly widened. Recognition. There were two others, Kaze and Kagero, that had given him a significant side-eye. As they were ninjas, it made sense that they knew, but Shura became paranoid. Who else, though? How fast would his allegiance to Corrin spread?

As he had before, he isolated himself. Corrin was bright and hopeful, committed to justice. He couldn’t bring to tarnish her reputation. He avoided his fellow soldiers, training at odd hours and taking meals alone in supply tents and corners of the walled town outside of the castle when the weather was agreeable.

Roughly two weeks after joining Corrin’s army, he found himself outside, on the outskirts of the peach orchard with a barely-touched plate of food, frowning as he gazed across the grassy expanse between the walls. He contemplated his reasons for Corrin allowing him in. Why would Corrin accept a widely known outcast like him into her army? Did she not know his reputation? Had her advisors and retainers given her an earful after she accepted him? She seemed perpetually busy with training and strategy; he’d barely seen her since he came back to the barracks for that first time.

Shura wondered how long it would be until he was forced to leave.

He was so deep in thought that he didn’t immediately notice the light sound of footsteps in the grass. His wariness raised, Shura set his plate aside and twisted around sharply—only to find Lady Corrin standing a good fifteen or twenty feet behind him, her expression serious. Her armor was still on; she’d likely been training all morning. The wind tugged at her hair and pulled strands into her eyes. “Shura? What are you doing out here?” she asked.

“Food.” He scrambled to his feet; it was rather poor form to sit in the presence of a noblewoman. Once he was standing, Shura gestured to the plate at his feet and clarified, “Eating. I was eating.”

Her gaze traced down the plate, and she approached him. Her arms were folded over her chest. As she drew nearer, he noticed the redness of her cheeks and the sheen of her skin. She certainly had been training that morning. Only a few feet away now, she stopped and examined Shura, her gaze still serious. She glanced around briefly before lowering her voice and remarking, “Well, I’m glad you’re eating. I’ve barely seen you. Do you take all of your meals out here?”

“I do,” he responded slowly, watching her face fall with the news.

She gave a low sigh. Without further ado, she sat herself in the grass, knees drawn to her chest, and gave him a brief quirk of a smile. “It really is a lovely day out, though. Most days here are pretty nice, though. There’s always sun and a breeze, and the breeze smells good…” her voice trailed off, an unreadable expression passing over her face. Her eyes focused again, on him, and she patted the grass. “I’m afraid I was sidetracked, just now. Sit down.”

Shura warily eased himself back onto the grass. His lunch was forgotten at this point; the noblewoman’s appearance disrupted his life whenever she appeared in it. She gazed at him, her pale eyelashes marring the deep red of her irises; her gaze was dizzying. “Why do you take your meals out here?” she asked. “The mess hall has more than enough room for everyone. We could easily add another score of soldiers and never experience trouble with space.”

Her concern was disconcerting. He scratched at his jaw, earning the rake of stubble against his fingertips, and sighed a little; part of him wondered if she would be offended or hurt if he walked her through his line of thinking, but none of him wanted to ruin the warm reception she had given him. Her joy over his acceptance to join the army had been so pure. _I owe her that, though,_ he thought.

“I’m grateful you’ve accepted me into this army, Lady Corrin, and that you’ll allow me to travel with you,” he started off. “But, as a former outlaw, I’m not fit to dine at your table.”

Corrin tipped her head, and hair fell into her face with the movement. She tucked it back behind her ear, revealing the tapered points of her ears. “Why?” she asked, her voice low.

_Why?_ Was she so naive as to not see why? He was a known outcast, was he not? Hedging further, Shura simply said, “It is best I remain in the shadows as much as possible.”

Worry crossed her features. “In the shadows? What are you talking about? Did someone say something? Was it Jakob?” she added hastily, glancing over her shoulder.

“N-no,” he responded, taken aback. “I don’t know that I even know who that is.”

Corrin scratched at her cheek awkwardly. “Okay. Then what do you mean?”

_She clearly doesn’t get it._ With a sigh, Shura explained, “Lady Corrin, my face is not unknown. Many people recognize me as an outlaw. If it became known that I was part of your group, it would damage your good names. Even if the mess hall is not exactly public, it is still large, and rumors spread. A soldier may write to their family, who would tell their village, and so on.”

In spite of his explanation, she shook her head. “I don’t think—”

“You cannot deny that the possibility exists, can you?” he hedged, silencing her protests. She glanced away guiltily, and Shura knew he was right. “I have no intention of allowing my presence to hurt your cause. Please try to understand.”

Her face fell, and she clambered back to her feet. They were bare again, toes tinted dusty with dirt and wear. “Shura…” Corrin said, but she trailed off and shook her head ever so slightly.

Shura felt uncomfortable with the depth of her response. She seemed sad; he supposed that someone like her, with a massive heart, saw him as some sort of stray dog to integrate into her growing family. He cleared his throat and said, “Now, go rejoin your people. I’m sure they are missing you.”

“A-all right. I will. Have a good day.” She began walking away. Before she made it far, though, she paused and turned to look at him. “If I see you alone, though, don’t assume that I won’t say hello and check in. I can’t let that go.”

He gave her a wry grin. “I suppose you can’t, can you? Good day, milady.”

She gave him a smile in return, the expression gentle, and trotted back toward the barracks. Lady Corrin seemed to be tireless. Shura watched her go before flopping back into the grass. He crossed his arms over his chest and sighed. _As long as she does not push the bill, I suppose,_ Shura thought. It tugged at his heart just a little, knowing that someone was worried about him—even if it was a superficial or naive sort of care.

* * *

 

Of course, she was a pusher. He didn't know how he expected her to be anything but someone who pushed boundaries, little by little.

Only a few days after his conversation with Corrin in the grass, Shura was experiencing a night was painfully hot. Every window of the barracks was thrown open and a breeze flitted through, but the occasional movement of air did little to ease anyone to sleep. Shura, in his corner, laid awake still, though the deep blackness of night was slowly turning gray. Dawn approached, and he had yet to sleep. The constant shuffling and muttering of other men who couldn’t fall asleep surely didn’t help; even those who seemed fairly good-natured on a regular basis, like Silas, were tossing crabbily in their cots.

When the breeze ceased to stir the humid air that reminded him of the interior of the bathhouse, Shura decided to give up on sleep. He would take care of his assigned duties in the morning and then find a shady place to nap if he felt himself dragging during the day. He rolled off the cot, foregoing the donning of his cape, and carefully exited the barracks.

The heat and humidity weren’t much better outside, but it was better than nothing. He wandered aimlessly through the largely abandoned castle yard. A few lanterns here and there cast an orangey illumination that seemed appropriate for the lazy but oppressive heat. He observed Nyx at a distance, the tiny woman who could not age, pacing about anxiously. Shura steered clear of her; she seemed as disinterested in interacting with others as he was.

He found himself close to the peach orchard again. The sweet aroma of the fruit always drew him in; how often did he get the opportunity to eat such a delicacy while running around as an outlaw? Glancing around to see if anyone was watching, Shura gravitated toward the orchard and approached the nearest tree. As he wasn’t currently working to harvest fruit in the orchard, it was frowned upon for him to pick and eat fruit at will. If an action didn’t serve the community, it generally was discouraged. However, on a night like this, who would miss a single fruit?

The branches of the trees were laden with heavy fruits, rounded and aromatic. He reached up to grab a fruit, but he paused. A flash of silvery paleness had entered his peripheral vision. “Hello?” he called out, frowning.

“Shura?” It was Corrin, of course. He turned in her direction as she appeared from behind the tree. The moon provided little light; only her hair could be seen in the darkness. “What are you doing out here so late?”

“Lady Corrin, I could ask you the same,” he retorted defensively, hiding his hands behind his back slowly. The darkness likely concealed his sneaky hands that had grabbed for a peach, but something told him that the princess knew anyway.

Corrin had drawn close enough now that he could make out her shape faintly. As he watched, an orange light bloomed near her face; she had brought a lantern with her. “Well, if you’re anything like me, it’s far too warm to sleep and no one will miss a single peach,” she remarked, laughing self-consciously.

“Two peaches,” Shura corrected guiltily. “That’s what I came here for, too.”

“I’ll bet it’s more than that now. I can’t imagine how anyone could sleep in this heat. Especially the Nohrians. Nohr is never this warm,” she said. Locking eyes with Shura, she sighed. She guiltily held up her other hand, revealing a singular peach. “We could split this one. That might alleviate my guilt a bit, and we’d be missing one less peach. Although, finding someone else out here makes me feel less bad as is about breaking my own rules.”

“Lady Corrin, I don’t need a peach,” Shura tried to say, but she gave him a look, an eyebrow arched questioningly. _She doesn’t take no for an answer, does she?_ He sighed and responded, “Okay. Yes. I accept.”

They were once again sitting in the grass, on the border of the orchard. Corrin had a paring knife, working to separate the fruit into halves. “I came prepared,” she said dryly, slowly cutting around the core of the fruit. She paused, and glanced over at Shura. “You don’t mind that I’m talking to you, right? I mean, no one else is around, and I said I’d come say hello if I caught you alone. I don’t mean to be intrusive.”

“I don’t feel intruded upon,” he responded slowly.

She shot a smile back and worked by the light of the lantern on the fruit once more. “That’s good. I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I truly just don’t like the thought of someone being alone or isolated all the time,” she remarked. She pulled the knife from the peach, wedging it into the ground, and carefully pulled the halves apart. Corrin held out both halves. “Take your pick.”

He took the half with the pit and thanked her. Shura bit into it and marvelled at the sweetness. The fruits grown in this deep realm, including the Nohrian berries, were perhaps the best he’d ever had. Corrin sighed happily, her half-eaten portion dangling from her fingertips. “I’m sorry if I made you feel guilty about coming out here, by the way.”

“Eh.” Shura bit into his half and watched, from afar, as someone carried a lantern crossed the castle yard. “No need to apologize for everything. You’re here. I’m here. It is what it is.”

“That’s true. I’m glad I’m here, though. It was even stuffier at home,” she remarked, using her free hand to tuck her hair behind her ear again. “I can’t remember it ever being this warm in Nohr. Nohr is cold. It felt like it snowed seven months out of the year there at times.”

“Nohr's cold is endless,” he agreed.

Corrin glanced over at him, eyes wide. “Do you know a lot about Nohr? I thought you were from Kohga.”

“I’ve been to many places, trying to restore Kohga,” Shura responded. “I’ve been all over the continent.”

Her eyes lit up. The peach seemingly forgotten, she propped her jaw in her hand and said, “I want to hear about some of that.”

Shura frowned. He scratched at his jaw. “Why are you so interested?” he asked before taking another bite of his peach.

“In Nohr, I never got to go anywhere. I lived in the same castle for most of my life,” she responded. She combed a finger through her hair, letting it fall back into her face again, a curtain. She peered across at him with a single visible eye. “Now I’m in charge of an army. I haven’t really been able to travel. But you have. Plus, I’d get to know you a little better that way. You don’t want other people talking to you, but you never said I couldn’t. I’d like for us to be friends.”

Shura swallowed his bite of peach. “You’re interested in an old man’s stories?” he asked, skeptical.

“Of course,” she responded. She adjusted herself to sit facing him and gave a smile, showing off the soft points of her incisors. “I like to be friends with all of my soldiers. Even you, Shura. Even if you don’t really want to talk to everyone else.”

“Okay.” He tossed the pit aside and leaned back, gazing up at the sky. His face felt hot; a young, lovely woman was looking upon him so attentively, wanting to hear his stories. “Why did they keep you shut away? Was it to keep Hoshido from finding you?”

“There’s that,” Corrin said. “And Garon. He didn’t find me worthy for a long time. He raised his children to fight, and I wasn’t a good fighter. Not for a long time.” Her voice had grown morose, but she perked up and flipped a long curl of hair out of the way. “So. Tell me about your travels, why don’t you? I have a whole world to learn about, you know.”

He wanted to press her for more details; he hadn’t known that she grew up in such conditions. _Then perhaps...taking Azura from her home so long ago…_ Shura let those thoughts trail off. Lady Corrin waited expectantly for tales of his travels, an ever-eager listener. Something about her made him fear disappointing her; not because of what she would do if he disappointed her, but how he would feel about himself if he did.

Shura wove tales under a slowly lightening sky, where stars began to blink out one by one as the sun neared the horizon again. The lantern’s light was dying out, but her interest wasn’t, and Shura began to wonder if it really wasn’t so bad, interacting with this noblewoman. Perhaps his existence wasn’t such a mess if she was willing to hear his tales and give him encouraging smiles.  _I like to be friends with all of my soldiers. Even you, Shura._ Her words made him happy to share, happy to divulge little snippets of his life with Corrin. Shura supposed she wasn’t pushing the bill too much just yet. He supposed it was okay to snag a few hours of camaraderie in the decreasing darkness.

It was okay, for a while, to just be himself. It was okay, for a while, to not fear possible rejection. It was okay, for a while, to simply enjoy a hot summer night.


End file.
